


The Disappearances of Godric's Hollow

by be11atrixthestrange



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Muggle, F/M, Gen, Murder Mystery, Mystery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-05
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-18 04:15:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29852427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/be11atrixthestrange/pseuds/be11atrixthestrange
Summary: When people start disappearing from the sleepy town of Godric's Hollow, The Marauders — a local crime-fighting bureau — are up to the task. Will the media help or hinder their investigation?
Comments: 2
Kudos: 2





	The Disappearances of Godric's Hollow

The Leaky Kettle is often empty, which is a shame for such a cozy pub. However, its relative unpopularity is why James Potter enjoys it so much. It's the perfect place to decompress after a grueling day at work, and its privacy allows him to bring along case files to review without the fear of classified information getting into the wrong hands. As a Detective with The Marauders, a local crime-fighting bureau, confidentiality is essential.

James enters the bar on a Thursday evening, his arms overflowing with files on his latest case. He's greeted by the hollow clink of a wind chime as the bar's door swings open and the barkeeper's friendly smile.

"James Potter, fancy seeing you here!"

"Well, of course! Just like last week." Lily brings their son Harry to her sister's house every Thursday, and the two share a bottle of wine while Harry plays with his cousin. It works out perfectly because while Lily has no problem keeping up with her case notes, James does. He's usually behind by Thursday, drowning in paperwork, and he values extra time to catch up and review his cases before the weekend.

"Any leads?" asks Tom, the pub owner.

"You know I can't tell you anything."

Shrugging, Tom pops open a bottle of James's favorite beer, Newcastle Brown Ale, and skirts around the bar. "I can't help that I'm curious. I'm assuming you're investigating the recent disappearances. My wife's terrified."

"Maybe," says James, displaying his best poker face as Tom hands over the Newcastle.

"Well, whatever you're working on, I hope you catch the guy."

"You and I both, Tom." It's true, James's latest case is keeping him up at night. Their small town of Godric's Hollow is generally pretty tame. Most of the time, they deal with drunken bar fights and petty theft. Occasionally, they'll come across an armed robbery, a hit-and-run, or a suspicious drug scandal, but as far as James knows, they've never had a murderer before.

This isn't just any murderer, either. They are now dealing with a vicious and relentless serial killer. James shudders just thinking about it. Tom's wife has every reason to be scared. Everyone does. Of course, no one knows there's a serial killer on the loose; that would stir up unnecessary fear. As far as the community is concerned, there are just a few missing people, and James expects to keep it that way, at least until he's closer to an arrest.

The rattling wind chime alerts James to a newcomer. He swivels in his seat just as the door opens once more, and a tall, thin woman glides into the pub. She's wearing a green dress, bejeweled spectacles, and a sharp, manipulative smile.

"Good to see you, Rita," says James in a monotone that betrays his words.

"Oh, James," says Rita with an even wider smile that reveals her gold teeth. "It is _so_ good to see you again. What's the occasion?" She runs an overly-manicured finger across James's five-o-clock shadow, and flashbacks of their previous meeting at The Leaky Kettle invade his mind. He shudders at the memory of his fingers catching in her stiff, matted curls, the toxic smell of her perfume, and the slimy taste of her lipstick that no amount of Newcastle Brown Ale can mask.

"I was hoping for a favor, Rita," he says in a seductive tone, and she flashes a toothy, discolored grin.

Rita pulls a chair from the opposite side of the table and slides it directly next to James before taking a seat. He places a protective hand on his case file, and Rita eyes it longingly. He knows what she wants — information. "What can I do for you, James?"

"I need you to write an article."

"Good. I've already written one."

"I want to see it before it's published."

Rita chuckles. "You want to make sure I only publish the truth?" She's now looking at James through narrowed eyes, her familiar " _what's in it for me?"_ expression.

"Actually," says James. "I want to make sure you do the opposite."

Rita laughs. "Doesn't the public deserve the truth? Does this have anything to do with what I said at the press conference the other day?"

"Yes," says James, boldly meeting her eyes.

Rita's questioning shocked his whole team at Wednesday's press conference. " _Is it true that you've found multiple dead bodies? Can you confirm they were all missing a front tooth?"_ The Marauders have always dealt with the media making wild assumptions about ongoing investigations, but never anything so _spot-on_. Unfortunately, the words ' _no comment_ ' only sound like an affirmative when answering a question so horrifying.

"So it's true, then?" says a smiling Rita, successfully pulling James from his reverie. "I was right? There's a serial killer, and he's taking his victims' _teeth?_ "

"Um, sorry to interrupt this _riveting_ conversation," chimes Tom. "Can I get you something to drink, Rita?"

"Oh, sure. I'll have my special cocktail, Tommie."

"One Beetlejuice coming right up.".

Tom turns away and James continues, "You need to be quiet, Rita."

"Oh please, there's no one here to overhear us."

"You can't publish that information."

"Why not?"

"Because it will compromise our investigation!"

"How?" laughs Rita. "Your investigation seems rather lacking. Maybe the public needs more information. Maybe you need help. _"_

James is not about to take Rita's bait. "As far as we know, the killer thinks we haven't found the bodies yet. Pulling their teeth out is the only way we've connected the murders to one killer. We need it to stay that way, or we risk him changing his M.O."

"You _want_ him to keep killing?"

"No, but if he's going to keep killing, we need him to keep doing it in the same exact way." He answers her in a whisper, even though he knows they're unlikely to be overheard. "Teeth and all."

"So you don't want me to report the teeth?"

"Or the bodies."

"What can I write about?"

"Share a false lead. Doesn't matter what it is, just make something up. We'd like the public to think we're close to an arrest while showing the killer that we're way off the mark. That way, he'll get cocky and start making mistakes."

Rita nods contemplatively, still eyeing James's case-file. "What do I get out of this?"

"A great story, of course. You have my permission to let your imagination run wild."

"And when the real facts come out, what happens to my credibility?"

_What credibility,_ James wants to say. "We'll take responsibility for misinforming you. You can report on that too."

Rita laughs softly, her eyes drifting from James's case file to his scruffy jawline, before working their way down to his chest, a smug grin forming across her face. "That's a pretty big favor, James."

He forces a smile. "What can I do to convince you?" James doesn't need her to answer — he already knows how to persuade her, and thus far, his unorthodox methods have been well worth the risk. As the most prolific reporter in Godric's Hollow, the public's trust in The Marauders depends on Rita.

"I love it when you ask me for _favors_ because I get to ask for one in return." Her hand slides from her own thigh to his, and James can feel her neon-green talons gripping his leg through his chinos. He suppresses a shudder and nods toward the bar bathroom, meeting her sultry stare with a wink. He can manipulate Rita Skeeter just as well as she thinks she can manipulate him.

* * *

On Sunday evening, James storms into The Leaky Kettle to meet Rita. This time, the sound of the door slamming is not accompanied by the clanging of a wind chime, but James is too angry to notice.

"Hiya James!" says Tom cheerily. "Newcastle?"

"Sure," he huffs. "Where's Rita?"

Tom pops the cap off of a brown bottle and hands it to James, gesturing toward the back of the bar, where Rita is perched at a high-top table, fixing her makeup in a compact mirror.

"Skeeter!" says James, storming toward Rita's table. "What did you do?"

"Oh hello, James!" she says brightly. "Pleasure to see you!"

James slaps a copy of the Daily Prophet onto the table between them; Rita's shameless exposé is printed boldly on the front page.

x

**The Disappearances of Godric's Hollow**

_**An exclusive interview reveals that local police have more secrets than leads.** _

_**By Rita Skeeter** _

_The question on the mind of every Godric's Hollow resident is this: Are we safe?_

_After yet another strange disappearance, law enforcement finally has a lead. According to the local investigation team known as The Marauders, there is strong evidence to suggest that everyone who has recently disappeared is still alive, but time is running out. An abductor is on the loose, and he blends right into the town. He's likely someone you know, so take precautions and trust nobody — not your friends, family members, or coworkers._

_This information did not come easily. The Marauders have been in charge of the case from the beginning, and are suspiciously reluctant to speak to the media. Even though transparency is necessary in order to keep the public safe, the Marauders appear to be more concerned with maintaining the town's trust, however undeserved that trust may be._

_My passion for investigative journalism means I always put the public first, even if that requires a sacrifice on my part. Honoring transparency, I will admit that my interview with Detective James Potter crossed a boundary, one that would surely sadden his wife Lily. I have no secrets or regrets; my job is to communicate any information necessary to protect the public. Perhaps James Potter of The Marauders needs a reminder that he's been entrusted to defend the people of Godric's Hollow, not his public image._

_x_

"How do you think your article went, Rita?" asks James as he takes a seat across from her.

"This is going to sound controversial, but I think it went well," she says, popping her compact mirror back in her pocket and crossing her arms. "I published false information just like you asked me to, and everyone believes it! People are finally taking caution and practicing suspicion. They might actually be safe now, thanks to me."

"You made me look like an idiot," he seethes.

She laughs. "You want the killer to think you're off the mark, and he does now. I simply did what you asked."

James takes a long swig of his ale to cool his anger. "I asked you to share false leads, Rita, not make me look like an incompetent detective _and_ a cheating husband. Why did you have to make it personal?"

Rita grins. "To maintain my credibility, of course! When the lead is revealed to be a lie, this assures that you're still the one who looks bad. And, by the way, you _are_ an incompetent detective and a cheating husband—"

"Do you even understand how much this hinders our investigation?" interrupts James. "No one will trust us anymore! Not to mention that our citizens are now afraid of each other! We've already had to deal with an uptick of assault cases since this article's release, and the town wants us to bring in outside help."

"Look, James. I just care about Godric's Hollow. Maybe more eyes on the case is a good thing."

At that moment, James's phone buzzes in his pocket with a text from Lupin. "James, we have something you should see. Get back to H.Q. as soon as possible."

"Oh, thank goodness," says James, downing the rest of his ale. "Gotta go. We're not done with this conversation."

"Can I come, too?" asks Rita excitedly. "This could be a great story!"

"Absolutely not," says James before he sprints out the door, slamming it behind him and leaving Rita alone in the bar.

* * *

"Where were you?" asks Lily when James arrives at headquarters and embraces her.

"Crossing professional boundaries with Rita Skeeter," states Sirius diplomatically. "Boundaries that would surely sadden you, Lily."

Scoffing at Sirius, Lily returns her husband's embrace. "I don't know how you do it. Was she wearing that awful perfume again?"

"She always is," says James, looking disgusted. He's eternally grateful that Lily approves of The Marauders' creative methods. "Sorry about the article. Are you okay?"

Lily shrugs. "People have been giving me pitiful looks all day, but it's nothing I can't handle. Better than sleeping with that crone…"

"Tell me about it," says James. "I love you, by the way," he adds before placing a kiss on the top of her head.

"You'll love me even more after you see what I discovered."

"What's that?"

Lily nods toward Remus, sitting in the back corner, examining something sprawled out on the desk.

James approaches the desk, and Remus doesn't even look up. He's still studying the object closely, a grim look on his face. "What is it?"

"A wind chime," says Lily brightly. "Someone found it in a dumpster and sent it to us."

"But look what it's made of," says Remus, looking nauseated.

James squints at the wind chime for a closer look. From a distance, it appears to be made of oblong pearls strung together, but upon further examination, James realizes that they are not pearls. Hanging like beads on a silvery thread are tiny teeth. Human teeth.

"Blimey," says James. "This belongs to our killer! That's why he's taking the front teeth of his victims."

"That's exactly what we think," says Lily.

"Who would do that?" James has seen his fair share of strange human behavior during his time with The Marauders but never this.

"You should hear what it sounds like!" says Sirius excitedly. Reluctantly, Remus lifts the wind chime and gently shakes it.

James's stomach drops when he hears it. "Wow."

"I know," says Remus. "It doesn't sound like teeth clinking together, at least not what I would have assumed that to sound like. I think the teeth must have been hollowed out or—"

"I've heard that sound before," interrupts James.

"Where?" asks Lily, James, and Remus in unison.

James closes his eyes and listens as Remus shakes the wind chime again. The sound transports him somewhere else entirely; somewhere he can smell odd musky perfume, taste Newcastle Brown Ale, and see a toothy smile — a once-friendly face that now looks menacing. James drops his head to his hands. "No, it can't be."

"Where was it, James?"

"It was at The Leaky Kettle."

"That dingy pub where you meet Rita?" asks Sirius. "Tom's pub?"

Sirius's question makes James's heart clench. _Tom's pub._ _Rita_. "Rita's in danger. She's still there, alone."

The three exchange significant glances and rush out the door without another word.

* * *

The Marauders are not expecting a crowd when they arrive at The Leaky Kettle, but they are greeted with a rather rambunctious one. They muscle through the throng of rowdy protesters, letting their angry remarks roll off their backs.

" _This shouldn't have happened!"_

" _You can't even do your job!"_

" _This is all your fault!"_

" _Keep it in your pants, Potter!"_

They ignore the stream of insults and press on. When they reach the doors and peer through the windows, it looks like the bar has been trashed. Tables are turned over, glasses are smashed, and there's blood on the floor. Someone — a woman, is screaming.

"Rita!" shouts James. "Are you okay? Are you in there?"

The Marauders kick the doors open, and without the muffling of the glass windows, the woman's screams are louder and more piercing. It's obvious now to James that they do not belong to Rita Skeeter but to the brunette woman standing behind the bar. She's heaving against the countertop; one hand clutches her heart, and her face is soaked with tears. "My husband! He's…he's DEAD!"

Cautiously, James approaches the bar and peers over the top to see a man sprawled at her feet. He is lying in a pool of blood, his clothing soggy and stained red. His eyes are wide open, reflecting an expression of shock and betrayal, and just like the other victims, he has a large wound in his chest and is missing a front tooth.

"Tom! It's Tom!" says James to the team. "It can't be!"

The woman wails again, now collapsing over her dead husband.

"Ma'am?" asks James softly. "Do you know who did this?"

She shakes her head, dropping it into her blood-soaked hands.

When James turns back to Tom's body, something catches his eye — a crumpled-up card clutched in Tom's fist. "Do you know anything about this?" he asks, carefully extracting the note from Tom's cold hand.

She shakes her head, letting out another sob.

James's jaw drops when he opens the card and reads the note's faded lettering. The card is old and frail, and Tom's bloody fingerprints blur the spidery scrawl.

_Hi Tommie!_

_Merry Christmas! I hope you love the wind chime. I made it just for you!_

_It'll surely add some charm to The Leaky Kettle!_

_XO, Rita_

Suddenly vigilant, James rises to his feet and scans the corners of the bar for Rita Skeeter, but there's no sign of her. Just like her victims, she's gone.

"James, what is it?" asks Lily tentatively.

He hands her the note and watches as her eyes scan it. Remus and Sirius read over her shoulder, and soon enough, they've all turned as pale as a ghost.

"We _definitely_ had the wrong guy."


End file.
